The Queen's Secret by Victoria Lamb Page B

the best private homes in the country. But much of this is new.’ He indicated the elegant stone buildings at their back. One of Leicester’s guards walked past, and Goodluck drew the hood of his cloak over his head with characteristic caution. ‘Come under the walls here, where it’s quiet and we can talk undisturbed.’
    Between the new-built stables and the ancient lookout tower, between shored-up buttresses crowded against the outer defences, they found an alcove cut into the reddish sandstone walls.
    Goodluck drew a flask from the folds of his cloak and held it out to her. ‘Shall we drink to Her Majesty’s health?’
    Lucy took a sip and choked. She felt her cheeks redden and her throat sting at the fiery liquid.
    ‘You’ll get me into trouble.’
    ‘Too true. You shouldn’t be keeping such company, my little innocent, or some might suggest you would not long remain so.’
    Goodluck slipped an arm about her waist, drawing her possessively near. He threw back his hood, revealing the full glory of his dark beard again. There had never been a time when she had not known Goodluck, and his mysterious comings and goings had been a constant theme of her childhood. Yet she knew almost nothing about him, beyond his name and the certainty that he would never cause her harm.
    ‘You’re not afraid to be alone with me, Lucy?’ he asked, half teasingly.
    ‘Not a bit.’
    ‘You break my heart. But it’s good to see you again. It must be getting on for a year since I was last in London.’
    ‘More than that. Were you abroad?’
    ‘I can’t tell you that. But I shouldn’t have left you alone so long, I know. You’re well, Lucy?’ he asked, observing her from under thick black brows. ‘It was a creditable thing to get – and keep – a place at court. But you’re not smiling. Are you not happy there?’
    She hesitated, glancing cautiously about the castle walls, but they seemed safe from eavesdroppers. ‘You remember when I was still a child, Master Goodluck, and could sing and dance whenever I wished, and take pleasure in my skill? At court, we are not so free. There’s always work to be done, cleaning or mending or sewing, and we cannot refuse it. I must keep a guard on my tongue too, for fear of drawing attention to myself. And there’s another thing,’ she added. ‘We are
watched
.’
    ‘We?’
    ‘The women, yes. We live surrounded by rules. And they seem far stricter with me than the others. Even looking the wrong way at a man can earn me a whipping.’
    ‘They beat you?’ Goodluck’s generous, bearded smile did not falter but she heard the anger in his voice.
    ‘Not often. I try to be careful.’
    ‘I’m glad to hear it.’ He pinched her chin. ‘Though with your mother’s looks, I’m not surprised to hear you are watched constantly.’
    ‘You loved my mother, didn’t you?’
    She had not meant to ask but could not help herself, pouncing on the idea like a hungry bird on a seed. Indeed, there was no one else she could ask about her history, since both her real parents were dead. As she lay dying, her mother had begged Goodluck to look after her baby if it survived. True to his word, he had carried Lucy to his sister’s house when she was only a few days old, or so the story went, for he was too often away from home to bring up a child himself. There, she had been taught her trade, for they were a family of entertainers, and she the very youngest of them all, happiest on her hands instead of her feet and gifted from an early age with the voice of a songbird.
    ‘Yes, I loved her, for the short time that I knew her.’ His smile dimmed, and he glanced down at her curious face. ‘Though we would not have suited. Your mother was a wilful, headstrong piece. Just like her daughter.’
    Lucy pretended to pull away in a huff, but laughed when Goodluck’s strong hands caught her, one arm soon drawing her back to his side. ‘Lucky for you that I am not your father,’ he murmured in her ear, his